"Orright, orright," said Dwyer; "I hope it do."
Then Dad went on to speak of places he knew of where they preferred hoes
to a plough for putting corn in with; but Dwyer only laughed and shook
his head.
"D--n him!" Dad muttered, when he had gone; "what rot! WON'T COME UP!"
Dan, who was still thinking hard, at last straightened himself up and said
HE did n't think it was any use either. Then Dad lost his temper.
"No USE?" he yelled, "you whelp, what do you know about it?"
Dan answered quietly: "On'y this, that it's nothing but tomfoolery,
this hoe business."
"How would you do it then?" Dad roared, and Dan hung his head and tried to
button his buttonless shirt wrist-band while he thought.
"With a plough," he answered.
Something in Dad's throat prevented him saying what he wished, so he
rushed at Dan with the hoe, but--was too slow.
Dan slept outside that night.
No sooner was the grain sown than it rained. How it rained! for weeks!
And in the midst of it all the corn came up--every grain-and proved Dwyer
a bad prophet. Dad was in high spirits and promised each of us
something--new boots all round.
The corn continued to grow--so did our hopes, but a lot faster.
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